The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3)(46)

She looked down her front but didn’t see a drop of blood. She put a hand up to her head but it pulled away clean.

She wasn’t shot.

So what had happened?

Morgan shook her head, trying to clear it. It took a second for her vision to come back into focus, but when they did, she still didn’t believe what she saw.

The room was gutted. The dingy glass was blown out from the windows. The door blown off its hinges. Gregg was collapsed in a corner. Morgan’s eyes darted around the room but she didn’t see Barinov.

Great. It was too much to hope that he had disappeared in a puff of smoke like the devil he was. So where had he gone? And what had happened?

There had been one hell of an explosion, that much was clear. From the cloud of jet black smoke in the far window it looked like it had come from just outside the shack. A gas tank? Propane, maybe?

It didn’t really matter. All that counted was that the blast had happened just when she needed it. What were the chances it was just a coincidence?

“Ty?” Morgan called out.

There was no reply. Not from Ty at any rate, but her shout did manage to rouse Gregg. His head lolled back and forth against his chest.

Damn it.

Morgan didn’t waste any more time. She sprang forward and grabbed the gun. She held it straight out in front of her as she spun around.

Gregg’s eyes widened as he slowly came to. His hands shot up into the air.

“Don’t shoot,” he screamed.

“I’m not going to shoot you, idiot,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “Not in the head anyway.”

Though she had to admit that the temptation to clip him in the leg was almost too much to bear.

“Get up,” she ordered. “We need to get out of here before Barinov comes back.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I think the blast knocked me out for a second,” she said. “But he couldn’t have gone far. Probably just out to investigate, so we better move quick.”

“Was that your friends from the FBI?” Gregg asked as he rose to his feet. He scooted to the side, over where Barinov’s briefcase had been thrown against the wall.

She let Gregg scoop it up, even though Morgan had a feeling they both wanted it for different reasons.

“I doubt it,” she said, motioning toward the back door with the barrel of the gun. “No one knows where I am.”

“So, Barinov was right. You were bluffing.”

“More like wishful thinking,” Morgan said.

Gregg hesitated as he reached the door. “Are you sure that running out there is a good idea? We don’t knoe what caused the explosion or what’s outside that door.”

Morgan poked him in the back with the gun. “But I know what’s waiting for me in here. Out there, we’ve got a chance.”

Gregg slowly opened the door, craning his head to both sides before stepping outside. Morgan followed.

She looked in the direction they’d come in and found the answer to the explosion.

A large white propane tank was burst open. Jagged sheets of thick metal were peeled back like flower petals, showing just how violent the blast had been.

Somehow, Morgan doubted it was an accident.

So what was it?

Hope bloomed inside her, but she wasn’t willing to bet her life on hope. Not anymore.

She needed to get out of here and quick.

The dirt drive looked clear, even with the plume of smoke partially obscuring some of the path, but Morgan rejected the idea of taking the direct route. There was a lot of open space between here and the fence. Chances were one of Barinov’s men would see her long before she saw them.

Morgan glanced over the junkyard. Cars were stacked on top of each other. Scrap piles were swept to the side of every aisle. It was a more indirect route, sure, but with plenty of spots to hide.

“Let’s go,” she said to Gregg.

Her brother responded by bolting out in front of her, disappearing around the first corner in the maze of scrap metal.

Morgan muttered a curse under her breath, but didn’t chase him. Gregg was hardly her biggest concern. Besides, after what he’d been about to do to her, she was more than happy to let him run the gauntlet on his own.

She kept the gun aimed straight in front of her as she carefully stepped into the junkyard.

Of course, she’d never shot one in her life, but she was pretty sure she got the general idea. Point. Shoot. Run like hell.

She led with it around the first turn, finger ready on the trigger, but the aisle was clear. So was the next one. And the one after that.

Morgan relaxed a little. She had to be close to the chain link fence, and so far she hadn’t heard so much as a single footstep from Barinov’s men.

“Morgan.”

Dust skittered out from Morgan’s feet as she froze. That voice. Just a few minutes ago she’d been so certain that she would never hear him again. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up.

He was about twenty feet in front of her, his back up against two flattened cars.

“Ty.”

Relief rushed through Morgan at the sight of him.

She ran toward him, not bothering to look around the corner of the last aisle. She was only a step in when she ran into a brick wall.

At least, that was what it felt like. The air rushed out of her lungs as a black-sleeved arm cut across her chest and brutally yanked her backwards.